La religieuse
by Katherine NotGreat
Summary: A mysterious encounter - or an act of God? -prevents our favourite Inspector from committing suiside. Someone he could never imagine meeting there and then.One-shot. COMPLETE


Perhaps "derailed" was not the most accurate term from the linguistic viewpoint.

However, it perfectly depicted the current state of the lonely inspector's inscrutable soul .

(Though he was often accused – behind his back, of course,- of not having one at all).

"Lost" would have been a close equivalent, if not for the fact that in order to lose something, one should possess the object in question, in the first place. Moreover, this adjective would classify him into the category of human beings, or at least living beings in general, and in Paris and its surroundings it was a truth universally acknowledged that _Monsieur l'Inspecteur _was hardly human. And the latter did nothing to prove otherwise thoughout his career, either in the capital or elsewhere.

Until now. Or, rather, the day before yesterday.

Now he himself wasn't sure who or what he was.

Everything was now turned upside down – or was it vice versa? He was no longer sure.

After the events of the previous day( and night), resulting in those agonizing hours on the confounded bridge, all his old beliefs were shattered, but nothing new rose yet from those shambles.

Perhaps he lost his senses. But, then again, in order to lose them one must have them, _n'est-ce pas?_

Which was not his case.

He didn't have senses – he had principles. More exactly, they owned him. He _was_ his principles – at least he believed so now, that's it.

Now he had nothing to believe in. And that emptiness was more than he could endure.

He sighed tiredly and shifted his gaze under the bridge.

The cold waters of the Seine, that black abyss, was looking into him, as if inviting the derailed inspector into its dark was odd; repulsive and tempting at the same time.

He realised , without any sign of emotion, that he just wished _to cease to be._

To end it all – because there was no way back, and neither any visible road before him, except for those troubled waters, inviting him into guaranteed non-existence.

Yes , to end it all – and be free from that unbearable _agnoisse…_

He made a firm step towards the edge.

" Rather hard for you to kick against the goads, _Monsier l'Inspecteur_?"

He _almost_ (!) startled upon hearing a long-forgotten but still familiar voice. Turning around, he faced a woman in a nun's apparel. Albeit not exactly young, she had an air of grandeur around herself, and , more important, an aura of empathy and kindness that he didn't remember from their previous encounters. Now she was looking directly at him, and Javert couldn't help feeling somewhat awkward.

"Take care, _mon frere, _pride always has a fall", she continued meaningfully.

Without acknowledging any of his intentions, he made a step away from the edge.

"_Soeur Simplice,", _the Inspector made a stiff nod, and , unlike his usual attitude, avoided meeting the woman's eyes. "How very unexpected…What brings you here?"

" Not _what_ , but rather _who,_my friend."

He snorted in frustration. "Ah, of course. How could I forget about Valjean. That man seems to be omnipresent."

"I actually was speaking about Our Lord", the nun made a small smile."But speaking of M. Madeleine…perhaps you know where to find him?"

Javert shaked his head, rather annoyed. "Am I that man's keeper?", he started angrily, then abruptly cut himself short and sighed. "If you are looking for _him, _Ican provide you with the address. And now I beg your pardon,_ ma soeur, _but I have some unfinished business and will not be interrupted…"

"Ah, yes, the _unfinished business, _I see…"

The nun looked down from the bridge, then at Javert. It didn't take long for him to realise that **she knew.**Not that he was eager to give himself away, by any means.

"In fact, I'm not here in Paris to search for M. Madeleine," she admitted, "but for another , rather important purpose. Though I rather believe him to be the only person of your… acquaintance in this world, who could possibly understand _you._ Because he, too, had once been on the edge."

Javert snorted again, although starting to feel more and more embarassed, which bothered him beyond measure . "I am in no need of confidantes, _ma soeur._And that regards not only Valejean. Surely you have some business or your own besides preaching to an agnostic. I don't need anyone._"_

Somehow, the last phrase lacked his usual confidence.

"However, _mon frere," _the nun went on as if nothing happened, "Our Lord was very thoughtful when He said that _**"It is not good that man should be alone" **_Don't look so shocked, my friend," she added, smiling, upon seeing Javert's flabbergasted stare, "Of course I don't mean it in _that sense_. And , you know," she approached closer, now looking more serious and solemn, and gently squeezed his hand before he could utter a single objection, "You don't have to waste yourself, you know."

There was nothing indecent in her touch; in fact, it was totally void of any sexual context, but was some _different _type of caring for a person that Javert had neither known of nor had ever experienced. It was like a touch of an angel's wing, and yet so human in its warmth, that Javert felt more disoriented than during his lonely hours on the bridge.

No one had ever treated him as a human being before.

"You don't have to", the nun added compassionately, but with a hint of reproach.

Javert felt a strange pang in his chest, on his left side, where other people were known to have a heart.

"Nothing makes sense anymore", he finally muttered after a long silence, his shoulders lower than ever before. " Everything is upside down and to go on as before is just…pointless…" The final word was all but a whisper.

"You know, Antoine", the nun went on after some pondering, not seeming to notice the Inspector flinch at her calling him by Christian name _(where she could learn it, by the way?)_, " back then, in Montreuil-sur - mer, I felt almost the same."

"How so?", he asked in a hoarse voice, all of a sudden turning around to face the woman.

"That night when poor Fantine was dying, " she gently reminded him, without any criticism concerning his not-so –gentlemanly behavoiur during the mentioned events. " I did tell you a lie then, about M. le Maire's whereabouts…" she sighed, " and it was my first lie since early childhood. A terrible blow for my pride, that it was. Totally against my principles – and yet it was the only **right **thing to do at those circumstances. Oh, to say I felt horrible after that would be an understatement…I couldn't accept God's will, because I, who always felt _right_ and _proper_, was so much humbled! And yet, in the heart of hearts I admitted that to act differently would have been a sin, not vice versa. Long after, I accepted the fact that God's ways are not our ways, neither His thoughts are our thoughts... But not at first, no! I was quite proud and about as obstinate as you, my friend!"

Javert kept silence, gazing across the Seine, but Simplice was sure he was listening to her.

" It was only much later that I realised the difference between human truth and the Lord's Truth.", the nun finished her musing. " If only you could see the latter…"

"The Truth…" , he scoffed, still gazing at the beautiful pre-dawn capital, "All my life I served the Law. But you clergymen always insist that it is less than that Truth of yours. And what, pray tell me, is the Truth?"

"Well, I'm surely not Our Lord, and neither you are Pontius Pilate," the nun kindly chided. " Honestly, you are a much better man than the notorious governor of Judea, though , don't take offence, as stubborn as the animal Our Lord chose to ride on while entering Jerusalim! And you won't hear anything I could tell you just now, not in that state you are in. But, however, Antoine, you've got a whole lifetime to find it out. The Turth, I mean."

"Lifetime", he echoed bitterly. "I am fifty-two, _ma soeur! _"

"_Alors, _it's about time for you to be born again!"

Their eyes finally met.

"What do you mean? How can an old man do that ?"

"Do not marvel that I say to you "You must be born again"" . It's John, chapter three, verse seven, _mon frere. _I understand you are not much of a reader, but , perhaps, you could acquire that habit eventually."

Javert wanted to contradict ,but his opponent suddenly produced a small paperbag out of her robe.

"Oh, I compeletly forgot! You must be hungry, having spent so much time here! _Alas_, that's all I can offer you!" And she handed him down a piece of cake.

"_Une_ _religeuese?" _How ironic, exactly when Javert was starting to think nothing could astonish him anymore, after all the events of the previous day…

"Yes, I didn't believe you are the type of person who cares much for pastry, but still better than nothing…and speaking of changing habits…" Simplice's eyes had a hint of twinkling " Oh, and before I take my leave – for I must leave soon – I heard from some sisters that in St. Mary Magdalene's convent near Valenciennes they have a vacancy you might be interested in….Now, beg pardon, _mon frere, _and do remember that _there", _"she pointed to the river, "this is the wrong place to search for peace. Or for liberation, either. Do seek elswhere, Antoine!"

He lowered his eyes to the waters of the Seine once again, and when he looked up, Sister Simplice was no longer there.

Perhaps he had gone mad, after all. No wonder, considering all that had happened.

But the tast of the famous French cake in his mouth was too real to be a hallucination.

After some pondering, Javert took his hat from where he had left it hours before and steadily walked away from the notorious river.

When some years afterwards, already serving as a gardener in the convent near Valenciennes, Javert met several travelling sisters who had been to Montreuil-sur-mer, he learned from them that Sister Simplice had died from typhoid about two years prior to their meeting on the Notre-Dame bridge.

Somehow, he wasn't much surprised.

_Religieuse_ (f) – 1) a nun (Fr.) 2) a special type of cake with cream


End file.
